


Lipstick Traces

by hvanwoong



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Glam Rock, Glitter, M/M, Makeup, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26517991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hvanwoong/pseuds/hvanwoong
Summary: ‘You look pretty.’‘I’ve never been pretty before.’I think you have, Dongju thinks.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Son Dongju | Xion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 102





	Lipstick Traces

The floor is sticky with spilled beer from the past and Dongju’s boots pull up fibres from the carpet with each step. Music from the main venue plays from tinny speakers strung up in each corner of the small green room but Youngjo’s playlist is louder and the dense web of mixed music brings on a familiar headache. Dongju’s brother Dongmyeong is eating ramen before the stage and the room is filled with the scent of sesame and spice, so heady that Dongju wishes they were above ground just to get some air.

The basement club is tiny but has a reputation in the industry that can’t be underestimated. They say that groups who perform here get their big break not long after. The band attained their slot thanks to a friend of a friend of a friend and Dongju knows the pledge for tonight: _don’t fuck it up_.

‘You look nice.’ The words are abrupt and slightly uncomfortable and Dongju turns around in surprise to see Geonhak, leaning against the rickety dressing table crammed into the back room.

The band’s drummer is a little awkward, and though he sings back-up vocals during their recording sessions, on stage he prefers to hide at the back behind his kit. He’s always been quiet and he turns his drum-sticks around his fingers with a skill that might look flashy and confident, but for those who know him betrays a nervous anxiety. He’s dressed in skin-tight black jeans and a white t-shirt that pulls across his broad chest and reveals the littering of tattoos down both forearms.

‘Thank you,’ says Dongju. He tries not to sound shy. Ever since he was invited to join the band, he’s found Geonhak the most intimidating. Though he’s quiet, it’s in a mature way that young guitarist Dongju used to find most daunting when it came to conversation. Now, he speaks Geonhak’s language – music – but there are moments still when he catches him off guard with his piercing eyes and subtle, understated features. ‘You don’t think it’s too much?’

Dongju has been called _too much_ more times than he can count. In derisive reviews printed at the back of cheap music magazines, and by louts who crowd at the bar during some of their shows and don’t understand the message in the slightest. They’re only there to drink and hit on the girls that follow them. Dongju has always been proud that their small but dedicated fanbase is comprised almost entirely of girls, because he’s always found girls to be the most emotionally intelligent, and he wants the people who attend the shows to _understand_ their music.

 _Too much_ for the men means the clothes and the make-up that Dongju loves, and that the girls love. Three months ago he wore a pleated skirt on stage that made it into tiny box articles in the main-stream press. Why, he could not understand, but the rest of the group found it engaging. Every night he sits in front of the mirror for an hour at least just to prepare his make-up: dark eye-liner, pink gloss on his lips, hearts and lightning bolts and patterns painted in glitter on his cheeks.

Ever since he was young, Dongju found this way to express himself.

‘I think it’s perfect,’ says Geonhak. His voice is shaky and a little guarded, and it makes Dongju wonder what it is that he wants to say. Geonhak is pragmatic with his speech, and only raises a conversation if there is a purpose to it.

Tonight, Dongju has gold glitter in three dashes across his cheek, matching gold and black nails and a glitter-finish lipstick that makes his lips feel heavy and chapped. He wanted to pair the look with thick false eyelashes but he lost the packet somewhere in the tour van. ‘Thank you, hyung,’ he whispers again.

A low twang reverberates around the room as Giwook tunes his bass.

‘Do you think - ’ Geonhak starts, and then stops, and his eyes flicker around furtively. No one is looking their way. ‘Do you think I’d look good? With something like that?’

The question catches Dongju off guard. His lips part in surprise and he scratches the back of his neck. He has opted for a sheer black vest tonight, which leaves little to the imagination, and he’s suddenly very aware of Geonhak’s eyes on him. ‘The make-up?’ he asks. Geonhak has never worn make-up before. Not even a lick of concealer during his worst breakouts.

‘I’ve just been looking at you a lot. I think it looks really good. People like it. Do you think…?’

 _I’ve just been looking at you a lot_.

Dongju’s stomach flips over, and he’s conscious of the way his thick black soles stick to the floor. He’s rooted to the spot. ‘You’d look great, hyung,’ he says. His mouth is dry, and his voice comes out even drier, but he hopes that Geonhak doesn’t notice. Instantly, he imagines Geonhak’s face dressed in thick black kohl and dark matte lipstick to contrast with his bleached blond hair.

‘So do you think you could… give it a go?’

‘Oh you want me to - ’ Dongju stops, breathless, and then nods. His eyes flicker to his watch and he sees that there are only ten minutes left until their set is due to start. But he nods.

He crosses the beer stained floor and steers Geonhak by his shoulders back into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. There are two empty pint glasses and an ashtray on the table but Dongju pushes them away and plonks down his make-up bag in their place. ‘Nothing too crazy,’ warns Geonhak. His voice is deep and rich like dark chocolate ganache. That’s how Dongju imagines it to taste, anyway.

To that, he nods his assent and pulls out his eyeliner pencil. They share everything and he’s drawn on Youngjo’s eyeliner many times so it’s no big deal, but nonetheless his heart jumps at the thought of sharing something kind of sacred with Geonhak. Geonhak who’s always hidden at the back of the stage but has always caught Dongju’s eye.

With a deep breath, Dongju lifts a hand and touches Geonhak’s cheek to turn his face to the side. His fingertips draw back the vulnerable skin around his eyes in order to keep it taut, so as to be able to create a smooth line, and he runs the blunt pencil tip first from the corner outwards, and then further up the curve of his lid. Geonhak keeps blinking, unused to the intrusion, but once he’s focused Dongju becomes quite firm with his fingers.

Geonhak’s skin is soft under his touch. Though he shies away from make-up, he moisturises every morning and night. There’s noise going on around him as the support band come off stage to encourage them, but Dongju does not look away from Geonhak’s face. It’s an excuse just to look at him and do nothing else, and there are rarely excuses to stare so intently.

Geonhak is pretty in a typically masculine kind of way. With a line of kohl that Dongju smudges with his thumb, though, his features soften. His strong brow becomes fine, and his cheekbones turn curved rather than pointed to the trained eye. Dongju picks out a _heavy-metal_ glitter liner in silver and Geonhak glances at it with a nervous look but Dongju just tuts.

‘Don’t worry,’ he says, ‘this’ll look so good.’

It’s a treat that he never imagined. To have Geonhak as his canvas, _Geonhak_. He runs the brush around the half-empty tube and rests the side of his hand onto Geonhak’s cheek. His bandmate is supple under his touch and allows him to tilt his face at his will. Their eyes meet and Dongju swallows, aware that they’re so close that their pupils seem deep as whirlpools. He draws a delicate line at the top of Geonhak’s lid, where it will show even when his eyes are wide open.

‘What about my lips?’ Geonhak whispers.

‘You’re not ready for this,’ Dongju gestures at his own lips, heavy with thick gold glitter, ‘but don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.’

He picks out a subtle colour not so far from Geonhak’s natural tone. Geonhak’s lips are small but pretty, so perfectly formed that Dongju sighs; he’ll never need liner. It’s as intimate as a kiss as he touches his own lipstick onto his lips, and Geonhak exhales while trying to keep them parted. At the unfamiliar weight, he touches them together twice and Dongju smiles when he pulls out a white tissue to dab at the excess.

‘You look really good, hyung,’ he tells him. As this is the first time that Geonhak has worn make-up like this, he thinks that praise is in order.

Geonhak blinks and looks down at the carpet shyly. His laugh tinkles too brightly for his broad form, and Dongju wishes he could bottle it. ‘Do I?’

‘Nobody will be able to take their eyes off you.’

‘Do I want that?’ Geonhak laughs, but when he looks up into the single cracked mirror his eyes widen and he pauses. Dongju sees the moment that he sees himself for the first time, not only what he is but what he could be. He turns his face from side to side and breathes out a shaky breath. Shadowed by black, his eyes become deeper-set and more mysterious. The silver glitter marries in minute detail with his belt buckle and the spurs on his leather boots. His drumsticks are still gripped in his fingers but he’s not twirling them anymore.

‘I think it would be cool if you wanted that,’ supplies Dongju.

He remembers a time when he wasn’t sure either, whether he wanted everyone to look at him. Then he learned that he could keep himself close and protected to his chest while still handing out an image that people could fall in love with. That’s what the stage is all about. It’s putting on one big make-up look and only cleansing it away at the end of the night to reveal one’s true self to the people closest to you.

‘Thank you, Dongju,’ murmurs Geonhak. It’s evident in a second that he can’t stop looking at himself. He lifts his tattooed fingers – inscribed with the initial of each of their members – and touches his temples, afraid to go to close to his eyes. Dongju’s eyes linger on his fourth finger, where his own initial is printed. ‘I never imagined that I could look like this.’

Dongju stands and leans over the back of the chair. Their bodies are close together, Dongju’s chest against the back of Geonhak’s head, and he can smell his aftershave when he leans in and meets his eye in the mirror. ‘I feel like I’m seeing you for the first time.’

‘Three minute call!’ says Youngjo in a loud voice.

Dongju jumps. He’d almost forgotten that they had a show to perform.

‘What do you see?’ asks Geonhak.

‘You look pretty.’

‘I’ve never been pretty before.’

 _I think you have_ , Dongju thinks, but he doesn’t say it aloud. He touches his hand once to Geonhak’s neck in a gesture that could be friendly or could be deeply intimate, and then squeezes his shoulder. ‘Today could be our big break. It’s good that you look your best.’

‘Do you like the way I look, when I look like this?’ whispers Geonhak.

Something catches in Dongju’s throat and he looks around for a drink but he knows that whiskey will only burn away the last semblance of his composure. ‘I like the way you look all the time,’ he says, in a voice that he prays is reassuring rather than coquettish. He smooths down the front of his sheer lace blouse and collects water and a beer bottle to take onto the stage. When he glances back, though, Geonhak is still in his seat, eyes fixed on his own reflection.

A small smile creeps onto Dongju’s lips and he recalls the first time that he sneaked out his mom’s lipstick and examined how he looked in it. He remembers seeing himself in colour for that first time and feeling like he’d switched from black and white television. He picks up his guitar, battered and scratched and with the new strings bursting in tangled rings from the tuning pegs because he left his clippers back at a venue four days ago. Slinging the strawberry-patterned strap across his body, he checks across the room for the rest of his members.

Every glance, though, draws back to Geonhak, who has finally dragged himself to his feet and takes two jumps that carry him almost to the low ceiling. The dimly lit basement feels smaller than ever but in a way that makes Dongju smile with comfort. Now, Geonhak is not playing with his sticks. He pushes them into his back pocket and takes two visible breaths before crossing to the door.

Dongju follows and closes his eyes. They sting a little under the heavy makeup, his favourite kind of sting. He can hear the crowd from the other side of the thin wall, and he imagines the roar when they step onto the stage.

Will the cameras capture his work on Geonhak in all its glory?

Or will this treasure remain a trove just for him?

He imagines the plain white strobes glancing off the glitter and hopes that if the cameras don’t immortalise it all, at least the fans in the front row will witness it like stars in the sky tonight.

Tomorrow, when they travel to the next city, and Geonhak inevitably asks him for help again, he thinks that he’ll dust his lids dark blue like the endless night sky.

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/hvanwoong)


End file.
